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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28955832">Skin Deep</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaGirlPanda/pseuds/YaGirlPanda'>YaGirlPanda</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Divergent - All Media Types, Divergent Series - Veronica Roth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:49:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,078</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28955832</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaGirlPanda/pseuds/YaGirlPanda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Freya Goldman chose fire and ashes - can she now escape burning without dirtying her hands?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eric (Divergent)/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I warn beforehand I'm a top notch procrastinator, aka it's very likely I overestimate my updating habilities. ^^''<br/>Oh, and this work was previously posted on fanfiction.net, but I opted to rehome it. That being said, I hope you enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Somewhere alongside the train tracks, Freya Goldman was again running off school times again, cigarette at hand and ripped black leather jacket rolling off her shoulders and sleeves. Taking long puffs from the death stick, the placid rose blonde Candor wondered what she might encounter the next day in the Aptitude test.</p><p>She was not an idiot – she knew they’d run some simulations of sorts. After all, Erudite ought to be what Erudite is. She only wished to know what the hell they were searching for in order to place her in one of the Factions. Curiosity had always been one of her strong suits but she lacked the motivation to roll up her sleeves and forcefully piece the puzzle together. Maybe that was for the better.</p><p>Candor was not her place – she knew so from a very young age. Even if the bluntness of the rest of her Faction was a good excuse for the constant fighting she got herself into, Candor was much too mild. Like her cousin who had defected two years prior, Freya was dead set on getting to Dauntless.</p><p>She took her time, vibrant green hazel eyes wandering the horizon of unused decrepit buildings, mind busy and unfocused as no words were spoken out loud. It had been a few months since she had talked to Draven, which was odd considering the two of them were like brother and sister, but she knew once she got to Dauntless she’d do a man hunt if needed be. She wouldn’t tolerate the silence that was forced on her any longer.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The aptitude test’s result was no shocker: Dauntless as it should be. She could still smell the iron-like stench of the blood, still feel the weight and wetness of the scarlet on her clothes – it was a bit too much for her, but the end justified the means.</p><p>That same night at the dinner table she had openly shared her result. Again, it had been no shocker. Freya and Draven had spoken for years about defecting to Dauntless, how they’d stick together and share an apartment when she’d chosen the Faction. The previous year she had nagged her aunt and uncle to the point they’d bring her along for Visitation Day. From what her parents had heard from them, she’d stricken a conversation with various Faction’s leaders who seemed invested in her talk and potential.</p><p>Freya was an only child and as so her parents were the end of her bloodline in Candor. For years they’d tried to sway her resolutions, but they had given up along the way – which was something Freya was glad for. They had no expectations of her, which meant she was free to go out and pursue her objectives much more efficiently.</p><p>They’d eaten and chatted for a bit at dinner, her parents mildly concerned about her life choices and her deflecting whatever fears and objections they might’ve expressed. They called her radical for a few things she said at the table. In her eyes, failing the initiation meant dishonor and disgrace and if that impossible scenario ever happened, she’d rather die than live factionless. There was no point in stalling death if her life goals were never to be accomplished because she could not endure her chosen Faction.</p><p>Excellency was not only required, it was expected, and those thoughts applied to whoever chose a Faction, be it their birth one or not. Faction before blood meant Faction before yourself in her mind and there was no word her parents could say that could ever jar her foundations.</p><p>While on her bed, sleep came surprisingly easy to her considering her mind had to consciously ignore the haunting image of the mutilated dog. Her body rested, getting ready for whatever Dauntless would throw her way the following day.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The next morning she got ready like usual, making sure the clock on the wall pointed to two hours earlier than her natural rising. She took a shower and got dressed, opting by some black tapered pants and a white black-spotted blouse, black flats on her feet. On top of her outfit she put on her old reliable black leader jacket that had been a gift from her childhood’s Dauntless friends, two packs of cigarettes in each sided pocket.</p><p>Putting the unruly waves of her blondeness into a mess of a bun by the top of her hair, she stared at herself in the wall-wide mirror in her plain bedroom. Breaking out of the routine as she stared herself in the reflected pair of eyes, she took one of the cigarettes out of her pockets, easily bringing it up between her lips, lighting it. Nostalgia caught up with her for a few moments as she indulged in it. As she left the room, she made sure to stomp the butt of the cig under her shoes, its sad discarded body left behind.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It was not a smart idea to ride the trains as a Candor member – but then again, she wasn’t applying for a job at Erudite for a reason. At that time of the morning, Dauntless wasn’t riding the train system yet, using it only for transport of food, supplies or materials. Knowing the routines and trails by heart, even some of the people that surveilled the trains by name, Freya hadn’t seen any reason not to jump into one of the trains and get a free handy-dandy ride to the Choosing Ceremony. She could not have predicted the Dauntless man inside the carriage.</p><p>Silence had immediately befallen the train as the Candor passed the threshold of the door, as their eyes made contact with one another. Opting to keep quiet, she waited for the six-foot dark-brown-haired man that stared down at her to say something. Built like a brick outhouse, his arms crossed over the developed musculature of his chest, the dark plain grey t-shirt making a poor effort to hide his pectorals. She could not deny Dauntless men were well-made and under other circumstances, she’d probably had had the audacity to say it to his face.</p><p>“What is a Candor doing here?” He asked, intimidating aura eating away her resolution. This was probably not a good moment to let her inner Candor shine, but in this situation and as she was not Dauntless yet, it was either that or nothing.</p><p>“Catching a free ride to the Hub… Didn’t think I’d be disturbing anyone’s business.” She offered honestly and cordially, a cross between a smirk and a smile playing at one of the corners of her mouth. The man didn’t seem to be convinced.</p><p>“And what makes you think you have the right to step foot into a Dauntless train?” He questioned, eyes falling hard and sober on her figure, a scolding tone to his voice. If he’d wanted to throw her out, he’d done it by now, Freya thought. It seemed the big guy was all bark and no bite, and if she was honest, she’d rather be it this way. She didn’t need to get into trouble before she got into the Faction. Offering a genuine kind smile, she took the infamous pack of cigarettes out of the jacket before speaking.</p><p>“I was hoping to get reacquainted with the trains before I actually choose your Faction in a couple hours.” In a gesture of friendship the extended a spare cigarette in his direction, the man’s eyes falling on the offered smoke before huffing.</p><p>“Not the smartest idea, Candor.” He commented, mentioning her Faction in an almost insulting manner and not accepting the gift, eyes still unimpressed by her. Knowing Dauntless, she knew he was, in his own <em>special</em> way, telling her she was off the hook if he had not pushed her out of the moving train by now. Yes, it had happened before… so she could’ve had worse, she thought with a smile. Against the man’s displeased but otherwise complicit way, her curiosity perked. He couldn’t have been much older than her or Draven were.</p><p>“I’m Freya.” She offered, lighting the cigarette with the white lighter she always kept on her. The man glared, keeping the imposing Dauntless stereotype alive in his stance. After a few seconds of silence and hopes dimming, he finally responded.</p><p>“Four.” He stared at her. The toothy grin she gave him truly was genuine.</p><p>“So how old are you, Four?” She questioned, puffs of smoke leaving past her mouth.</p><p>“Seventeen – and you’re sixteen.” He finished up for her, the cut-glass attitude ever present. In that moment and as a precaution method, her eyes glanced to the outside of the compartment. They were starting to get closer to the Hub at a quick speed and she needed to start thinking of jumping off. She gave him a smirking smile, eyes truthful and never diverting from his attention.</p><p>“I hope I see you again, Four.” She said in a form of goodbye. As she jumped off the moving carriage, she didn’t take to heart the absence of his reply.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The Hub was filled to the brim with a mass of people, a buzzing kind of commotion vibrating the air. In her mind, she thanked her alarm clock for existing since she had been able to catch a seat in the second row of Candor due to her early arrival. Her parents, however, hadn’t been so lucky.</p><p>As the loud speakers came to life, the Factions fell gradually into silence, the speech of the city council leader, Marcus Eaton, about their History and purpose heard by all in reverence. Meanwhile, Freya had easily become too interested in an offending cuticle in one of her nails, deciding that that matter was more crucial at the moment. When he was finally done, the names started to get called.</p><p>When her name finally sounded across the room, Freya got up and moved towards the podium. She knew what she had to do and did not hesitate for a second. Her only resentment perhaps was that the cut was too deeply-made into her skin, the thrill of the moment getting to her. Was this electric feel what Draven felt two years ago?</p><p>The sizzling of the coal and whoops of proud happiness from her new Faction guided her to the seats of Dauntless transfers in the ample room. Time couldn’t pass slower as she waited for the cue to the Factions to leave, her eyes often trailing back to her parents in the Candor sector as anxiousness and adrenaline spiked in. After the last kid had chosen, her new Faction finally got up, her new life beginning with the crowd’s flow.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun was setting on the outskirts of the city as young Freya and Draven walked each one on a train’s rail, their arms stretched sideways as a means to balance themselves on the iron, the uncut dry hay hitting against their ankles and the cricketing from the Amity fields getting louder as the night drew closer.</p><p>“…I guess it would made sense if they’d allow you to change your name.” A fourteen-year-old Freya continued the previous conversation, her cousin’s footsteps covering more space in less time, making him easily gain an advantage on their unspoken homemade tightrope challenge. The coolness of the night was starting to appear, the soft breeze wheezing past them in a natural caress between their hair strings.</p><p>“Of course! You’re starting a new life! Why <em>shouldn’t</em> you change it?” Draven exclaimed, focus on the positioning of his feet before giving a quick glance backwards, the brotherly guidance showing as he watched Freya getting behind, halting as to give her time to catch up.</p><p>“<em>Well</em> – what will you change your name to?” She had asked when she’d reached him on the train rails. Her cousin had shrugged, his sixteen years of age showing in the boyish demeanor present in his grin as he stared into her hazels.</p><p>“I don’t know! I guess I’ll figure it out then.” He answered laid-back, his ash blonde hair swaying in the wind, completely at ease with the choice he’d make in a few months. Her eyes had outright shone at the reply, her admiration by him pouring out of her.</p><p>“That means I could have your name then – when I go to Dauntless?” She’d asked, refreshing as a spring of water to her cousin’s ears. He laughed whole-heartedly, vibrating chuckles leaving his chest as his face lightened with pride. It was one of the highest compliments he had ever received – to have little Freya wanting to keep his name. It reminded him why he held his cousin to such a high regard, why he saw her so dearly.</p><p>“Of course you can have it. From now on, you’re Draven Goldman to me.” Freya’s cousin, Draven Graham, proudly declared, white magnetic grin capable to light up the darkness, hands flying up to ruffle her hair. As Freya’s complaints against the assault sounded in the empty fields, Draven’s body sprinted after her running figure as she disappeared in the direction of the setting sun on the horizon, laughs ringing in the air in synchrony with the singing birds announcing the rising of the stars and the bright moon.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The distant memory came back to her as she had step foot inside the moving train to the Dauntless Compound. It was a fragment of the past, a promise that had come to be paid its due. It had been two years ago, that day taking place a few months before Draven had chosen her now faction. <em>Her</em> faction, she thought, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth before a pang of sadness hit her, the disappearance of Draven coming to her mind. In a moment of sobriety, her eyes wandered over the train compartment.</p><p>The carriage was filled with Candor and Erudite, a few Dauntless born that had chosen this compartment also in the mix. She noticed how vastly different their actions were: the first half of the train was quiet, a cluster of four attentive and menacing-looking Candor boys and a lone nerdy looking Erudite in the back keeping it to himself; the other half chattered excitedly like old friends, the two Dauntless girls and the Dauntless boy busy in a private conversation, on the other side of the carriage two Erudite and two Candors having what sounded like a debate. Freya realized where that left her in the carriage: alone in her corner, just like the Erudite geek who seemed to be concentrating on not throwing up his breakfast. Quickly coming up with a plan to fit in, she decided to approach the debating group.</p><p>“ – that’s exactly what I’m saying, Lorie! Why are you against me!?” One of the Candor boys loudly complained, a whining tone to his voice, bright amber eyes electrified, dimples prominent on his face. She could’ve sworn he was in her History class this year, but as she had been constantly flaking on school, she couldn’t be sure. His disheveled hair gave him a bad boy look, she thought, which was ironic taking in how well he was getting along.</p><p> “Because of <em>you</em> – that’s why!” The other girl, Lorie, replied with an arrogantly sassy grin, satisfied to have the opportunity to piss the guy off. “Face it, Douglas. You’re not beating me – not in Candor, not in Dauntless.” The proud ginger said, her long curly hair out of the braid she’d noticed on her during the ceremony earlier.</p><p>“Hi – excuse me…” Freya interrupted. Just like that, all four pairs of eyes who were previously deep in conversation turned to her. “Do you know how much time ‘till we reach Dauntless?” Judging by the outline of the city and her knowledge of the train trails, she’d guess about fifteen to twenty minutes in this speed – but that was not exactly something she was about to disclose. The priority right now was making friends.</p><p>“No idea.” Douglas had promptly replied to her. That was when he gave her a once over and his eyes glowed with realization. “Hey – aren’t you that Goldman girl? You were in some of my History classes.” So she was right about them sharing classes.</p><p>“Yeah – I thought I recognized you too.” She confessed. “Sorry, but I didn’t catch your name… Wasn’t big on the whole waking up at six in the morning – I basically skipped the entire first month of class.” She explained, half-truthful half-faux regret showing. The boy simply smiled amused.</p><p>“Yeah – can’t judge you there. I skipped a couple classes as well. Mr. Meyers can suck it.” He said, the Candor showing. “My name is Roy Douglas.” He extended his hand to shake as Freya reached out, making sure to give a firm handshake back. Eyes turning to the other Candor and the Erudite in the group, Roy promptly presented them as well. “This is Lorie McKenzie – don’t know if you know her.” Freya was quick to reply as she looked at the other Candor.</p><p>“No, I don’t.” She smiled at the ginger as she took in the freckles of Lorie’s face, extending her hand as the other shook it in a Candor-style greeting. In her head, she noticed that the cuteness of her baby face was cut by the mesmerizing coldness of the girl’s ice blue eyes. It was an ungodly sight, if she was truthful. In the meantime, Roy kept on talking.</p><p>“The Erudites are Stephen Philips and Allan Harris.” He presented the two boys, Stephen being the one with darker skin and hair styled in waves, brown eyes holding warmth as he shook her hand; Allan being the one with dark long hair captured in a small bun on the top of his head, eyes also a dark brown and with a tan that put some Amity to shame.</p><p>“So I guess you all had Dauntless on the test?” She asked in jester, eyes filled with mirth as she thought it better to crack a joke before introducing herself. Roy burst out laughing as the rest of the group replied with either smiles or more mild laughs, the only one not that impressed being Man-Bun Allan.</p><p>“You can say it twice.” Roy replied boisterous, eliciting Freya’s smirk as his contaminating pride and joy spread. She could already tell she’d get along with him. As she opened her mouth to finally tell them her name, one of Dauntless born girls turned to the rest of the carriage to speak.</p><p>“Oi!” She loudly proffered, demanding attention, the eyes of the transfers turning to watch her. “We’re arriving at Dauntless. Get ready to jump.” She said, positively glowing with a set-wide grin, one of her Dauntless friends stretching in the back.</p><p>“<em>WHAT</em>!?” Lorie was the first to speak, exclaiming as the entire carriage turned to the windows, watching the tell-tale Complex appear closer and closer on the right. Freya’s eyes dropped along the height of the building, realizing the actual danger that jump consisted of.</p><p>“You’re crazy!” Stephen commented nearly out of breath. The Dauntless girl winked.</p><p>“You haven’t seen the half of it, Nose.” She snorted with pride, before her previously stretching friend jumped out the door, Dauntless Complex’s terrace roof having just appeared a few meters away outside the door. From the window, they could see transfers and Dauntless born jumping from the carriages on the front, the actual realization of what they had to do dawning on the group.</p><p>“Come on!” Freya’s adrenaline spiked, determination and encouragement moving her legs for her as she walked to the other side of the compartment, aiming for the door before darting in a sprint, the fabric of her clothes and hair whiplashing in the air with velocity, her feet thundering in the carriage before she threw her body upwards and forward, her feet breaking the contact with the safe ground as she dived in the air.</p><p>The jump was shorter than expected, her feet touching the ground too early which made her lose balance and roll around on the gravel flooring. Wearing off her high, she let herself stay down before examining her legs and arms, her Candor pants having been shredded in her knees, her upper body alright due to the leather jacket. It did not surprise her – Dauntless knew how to make fall-proof clothing.</p><p>Turning around, she analyzed her surroundings. Lorie, Roy and Allan were all intact, the Dauntless trio from the compartment as well seeing their happy snorts and unapologetic laugher, the four dubious Candor from the train on the rooftop as well… That let the Erudite boy out. Where was he? Looking around, she saw new faces, more Dauntless born, a few Candor and Erudite as well, but none like the geek she’d seen.</p><p>Disturbed by her suspicions, she stood up, cleaning herself off the gravel as the transfers and Dauntless started to make a circle surrounding someone she’d yet to see. Walking forward after giving a head signal to a faraway Roy, Freya approached the colorful black, white and blue mass of shirts.</p><p>“My name is Max. I am one of the leaders here in Dauntless.” His voice boomed in the open air as Freya tried to make her way around the circle, being too far away and hidden to actually see the author of the words. “<em>Now</em> – you’re about to enter the Complex, but for that you’ll have to jump down to it.” He said, a couple dissatisfied complains coming from the people around her. “<em>Again</em>!?”, “But we just jumped from a moving train!”, “Don’t you have stairs at Dauntless?”, the transfers protested.</p><p>“Silence!” Another man’s voice ruptured the air, another unclaimed voice as Freya desperately tried to see who exactly was speaking. “You can always not jump, initiate.” The voice taunted in a more sickly sweet tone. “The Factionless sector is that way – no one is making you jump. You can always turn around.” The man’s voice sneered as she finally caught a clear vision to the Dauntless men speaking, now that she’d made it to the corners of the semi-circle.</p><p>She quickly analyzed them. Closer to her was a dark-skinned man with short black hair, in either his early thirties or early forties, fully dressed in black, his form that of a soldier’s as she would describe it, standing powerful and demanding respect. Beside him, another man stood, surprisingly not that much older than her, eyebrow piercings shining under the light, light-brown hair and stern blue-grey eyes intimidating, a black sleeveless vest that showed the tattoos in his neck and arms. From their ages, she guessed the older was Max, the faction Leader, the younger being someone else. She wondered who exactly was he to stand beside Dauntless Leadership so proudly and unchecked.</p><p>“As I was saying…” The dark-skinned man spoke, calling back to attention. “It is tradition that the transfers have the first jump.” The atmosphere around her gained a new weight, her own self looking now at the ledge besides her and back at the man she assumed was Max, anxiety crawling at the pit of her stomach as she realized she could not see the end of the building. Sure, she’d jump out of the train, but they were literally asking to jump into the unknown here.</p><p>“Any volunteers?” Max asked after a couple of seconds, only to be met once again with silence. That’s when Freya’s eyes fell on the unnamed Dauntless man, his disdainful face contorting with cold wrath as he watched her unimpressed as well as the rest of the transfers.</p><p>“I thought you’d chosen the brave.” He taunted them in an almost snarl, a primitive fury crossing in his eyes. A cold sweat broke down her back, her doubts and fears heightening as she looked around and saw no one willing to step forward. The words left her before she could think twice.</p><p>“I’ll go.” Her heartbeat drummed in her ears as both Dauntless men looked at her, the older one giving her a mix between a smirk and smile, the younger one coldly assessing her. She walked to the edge where they were and got up there, her feet in front of the endless dark abyss of the building as she stared down at it. Her fears gnawed at her, consuming her mind and body, making her almost paralyzed as she fought the heart attack she was about to have. A few controlling breaths later, she uttered the words before leaping forward.</p><p>“<em>Ah</em>, fuck it.” …And downwards she sank into the uncertainty.</p>
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